Stuck in Smoke: The Fear of Police Brutality

As a journalist, coming home late is so normal that no time is late anymore per se but by normal standards, yes it was. And by late, I mean almost midnight.

This was a good day and since I did come back fast, I hadn’t had anything to eat. So I went to get a vada pav, which in case you’re wondering is a fried potato patty stuffed inside a bun and heated on a pan, sometimes with cheese.

The Incident

I just wanted to get the vada pav and get back home but no, events have to conspire on the one day I get home fast and that’s what happened here.

I got to the shop, ordered my cheese vada pav and then started reading the menu because there really isn’t much you can do while you wait. By the time I read half of it, my order was done and as I reached over the counter to take the parcel, I heard the shutters come down. Turning around, I saw one of the workers signalling all of us customers to be quiet and loudly whisper – POLICE.

I saw the time and sure enough, it was 12:00 am. The police had obviously come to shut down everything and we had been unlucky to be inside the place at that time.

It was then that it began. One of the dozen or so customers asked if the police would beat us if they found us. I thought he must be joking but turning around I saw that he and his friends were earnestly discussing this possibility which amused and worried me at the same time. Then the employees shut the lights off and the murmurs grew louder.

It amused me because I believe that the police could not beat us up for being there but I was apprehensive because I didn’t know for sure what the police would do. ‘Could’ and ‘would’ – the difference between knowing how things ideally work and not knowing how things will actually take place.

Image Courtesy: schmidtgs2.wikispaces.com

After ten minutes or so of this conversation, an employee got an all-clear phone call from the other side of the shutter and he opened it just a little and let us out in pairs. It reminded me of a couple of movies where people are trying to cross international borders.

And I thought to myself,

“Are things really so bad?”

“Why is there fear even on a normal day in a busy part of the city?”

“Are these people right in mistrusting the police?”

“Do we need to fear the very people in charge of protecting us?”

“Is this paranoia or years of ingrained reality?”

And the most important thought,

“Is this the fear of one person creeping into all in a distressing environment or is this a mutual repressed feeling being triggered by a mere mention of atrocity?”

The Implications

The latter thought is scarier than the former and if true, needs to be addressed by the Ahmedabad City Police at the earliest because if the people don’t trust their protectors, who are they going to put their faith into?

The Next Step

I hope this post reaches the police department because I figure they should be concerned even if this is an isolated incident, which isn’t very likely.

10 ways living in a boys PG is more horrifying than you think

Some of you already know that living out of your house is not great and all is not hunky-dory but only when you go to live in a boy’s PG do you actually get to experience hell-on-earth. It is a truly enlightening experience.

1. There’s a distinct lack of privacy

 Privacy? Ha-ha, what is that? This is the state I have had to live in for the past five years. Over time I’ve sort of become an expert on the subject with people peering into my computer screen, looking at my texts, opening my cupboard and generally being more of a nuisance then they tend to be everywhere else. It is more like a community shelter. I’ve often wondered why I pay to live at these places and then I realize that my job pays me so much that I can’t afford my own place without mortgaging myself and nobody will even accept as collateral.

2. Even your bottles get stolen

You have to get used to the fact that you no longer buy things for yourself but for everyone who ventures into your room to use your deodorant, eat your snacks, drink your juice, sleep on your bed and even drink the water that you kept in the fridge five hours ago so that it could get cold. In the end, you still get to drink hot water in 45 degrees Celsius. Your things get used and then they don’t even get replaced because you obviously brought it for everyone to use. You stop expecting people to fill your bottle and keep it after they drink from it because no matter how much you scream at them, indiscipline is the only principle that is followed with religious zeal everywhere.

3. There’s no space to even walk around breathe!

The paying guest business is booming and if I had enough money, I’d buy a place and rent it out too but since I don’t I’m waiting for someone to gift me some property. In the meantime, PGs are so cluttered that you are overwhelmed with the sheer number of people in your vicinity. I had a sense of personal space about five years ago. It got violated the first time I stepped into a PG and I’ve never managed to reclaim it ever since. You gradually realize that the only place you have a modicum of actual unadulterated air to breathe is on your own bed. The moment you get up, it’s like a Mumbai local but with considerably less chances of getting thrown out and dying.

4. Food habits change with every new place

Like South Indian food? Like Punjabi? Like Indian-Chinese? Like Gujarati fafda-jalebi? Sorry, who cares what you like. Most PGs hire people who can cook a maximum of two types of food. Sometimes, it’s just one type. So if you manage to find a place that serves different food on different days, you’re in luck but if you’re getting too cocky, don’t. You never know when the cook might get changed for stealing, making everyone sick or because of a payment issue. You might want to search out a safe alternative place that will deliver food to wherever you stay. It makes life much easier. But you always have the option of staying alive on tea, biscuits, wafers and good old Maggi. Damn! Is that an endorsement? Will I go to jail?

5. Contracting a communicable disease is relatively easy

Did you read the third point where I said that… just go and read it. On the other hand, if you did, you now know how it would be as easy as one sneeze, one cough, one handshake, one snot-barrage to spread any air-borne or touch-based communicable disease. PGs are what you can describe as the perfect environment for malign viruses and bacterium to flourish. It can take anywhere between three days and a week for the common cold to infect everyone. Now you know why I had myself checked for swine flu every time I coughed or sneezed. If you didn’t already know how dangerous this disease is, go check the stats, this article can wait. And now imagine that you are living in a place looks clean but harbours more diseases than the WHO lab in World War Z.

[This is my article for the Youth Connect magazine. You can read the entire article here: 10 Ways living in a Boy's PG is more horrifying than you think]

Faith in the Obscure: A Musing

What is Faith? Is it being Religious? Is it being Spiritual? Is it being part of both? Or is accepting one of them is enough?

By Faith, I mean belief in God. Not this God or that God, not multiple Gods or a single entity, not male or female, not multitudes ranked by relative importance, but the supernatural ‘Thing’ (for lack of a better word) that some believe created everything, runs everything and destroys everything.

Faith is a tricky subject and writing about it even more so. However, I wish neither to hurt feelings and sentiments nor create a controversy. ‘Faith’ is merely the word written upon my parents’ house and I’m just in the mood to ponder upon its placement in life.

Image Courtesy: fmaonline.net

Is Faith being a part of an organized or unorganized religion having rituals and practices? Is that a necessity? Or is it alright to not be part of religion and still have Faith. Yes, in order to have Faith, there must be a metaphorical or supposed entity to have Faith upon, but what if this entity has no shape or size or face or being? Can there be Faith without a point of reference?

Can Faith be largely a part of spirituality with attaching oneself to religion? Is it possible to put Faith in something that isn’t quite part of any religion but religious in an individual context? Can Faith exist in a void where there is a falling out between personal beliefs and the beliefs of religion? Can Faith exist without religion?

The possibility of keeping Faith in something that is somewhere and which is not hampered by the teachings of elders or the traditions of a people under a religious roof is something many people cannot comprehend. The ability to have Faith exists in all and the varying degrees to which they have it also depends on their personal experiences.

A disillusionment of religion as an institution can bring about the type of Faith I’m talking about. Although remnants of an imbibed religion may remain to guide the psyche to a new way of belief, it will no longer be the topmost priority in forming a Faith that almost nobody can reconcile to.

It is a difficult concept to grasp, especially for those encumbered with the weight of religious learning and years of practicing rituals and following traditions but this does not mean that an individual having Faith in a concept unknown to others is asking to be persecuted or is supposed to be worshipping evil or is straying from the path of God.

Faith cannot be ranked, for each one has his or her own and is different from the Faith that everyone else has.

I am an ousted CEO too

You’ve all no doubt heard about the case about the investors of housing.com oust the very founder of the company, Rahul Yadav. There must be a number of cases where similar things have happened to entrepreneurs who have sought investors to fund their fledgling start-ups. Now, I don’t presume to compare myself with Yadav in any way but…

Mine is one such story as well.

In September, 2013, three of my friends and I came up with an idea of starting up a news website for the students of the institute where we studied. We envisioned it as a platform for our fellow students to participate actively in the fields they were studying for. A practical approach to academics is what we brought our focus on when we thought up our web magazine.

Since we thought this up on the stairs of our institute, and involved the contribution of every one of our students, it was obvious that we were going to approach our management with this plan. We did so, and to our utter surprise obtained instant and enthusiastic support. We were asked to begin work immediately and submit requests for funding as and when required.

We were ecstatic and set up our website over eight months of planning, business model development, website designing and social media operations. Finally, out product was launched on the April 12, 2014 in the presence of the institute management and students. We had our own start up!

I assumed the role of Editor-in-chief, another co-founder as Chief Technical Executive and the other two co-founders as Editors of the two beats they excelled at. Although this selection does not seem fair, I must point out that the people in these posts were ratified by a general election within a week.

We ran the website with vigour and published 54 articles in the first two months of the launch alongside our hectic study schedule, assignments and internships. Some of our students even worked full time to support their education and even they contributed in one way or another to the initial success of this operation.

As in any other organization, we faced criticism, disgruntled employees and complaints relating to bias and prejudice. Although, all of these allegations were proved to be baseless time and again, these problems seemed to have an impact on the trust the management had placed on us and the morale of the entire team as well.

Decision-making ultimately passed to a representative of the investor (management) and although I still held editorial powers along with other editors, it became increasingly apparent that the democratic model upon which we had founded this organization was to come under fire from those who had deigned to finance it.

Finally, fed up with constant intrusions upon my sovereignty as Editor and decision making behind my back, I resigned from my post at the end of two months to allow for a new editor and pledged my support to the team if they needed it; albeit from outside. My resignation was rejected for reason I’m sure you can imagine and was told to maintain charge till they (management) could decide on someone to take my place and restructure the organization, placing their representative in overall charge.

Reluctantly, I withdrew my resignation in the interest of the magazine against my better judgement. But by then, the determination to lead controlled organization had left me and the team’s will to work had waned to the point that they refused work until the tie this matter was sorted out.

Two months of forced pieces and half-hearted work later, the management decided not to amend their mistakes but to make some more. They asked for my resignation in August, 2014, appointed their own Editor and asked the rest of the team to resign as well. They held a rigged election, refused to reveal the results and formed their own team against the wishes of the student body.

They rebelled.

Today, our organization lies, covered in dust, waiting for a new generation of students to shake the dust off what would have been a reputed student’s platform if only power hadn’t corrupted the investor.

Although complete in itself, this is still an excerpt of the whole case. You can read the full story here: The Story of an Ousted CEO

The Moustache with Political Affiliations

I work and study in another city so I have to travel home for functions and other things like letting my parents know I’m alive, that I’ve not dropped out of my study programme and that I managed to pay my rent on time so I wasn’t sleeping on the road.

I reached home yesterday for this awesome party my Dad my arranged, for my sibling’s birthday. Yeah, I never got those, but whatever. So, whenever I come home, I shave and travel because in my city I’m pretty ok with a beard and don’t exactly look like I’m about to pounce on someone on a lonely road but back home, there’d be a riot if my chin even has the inkling of facial hair.

This time, before leaving, as I faced the mirror, razor in hand, I thought to myself, “Let’s mess with the family.” I had thought of the most shocking, jaw dropping, bottoms upping and outlandish idea to blow the daylights out of the whole family by entering the party… with a Hitler Moustache!

Left - Hitler and Right - Chaplin

Well, the correct term for this badass of the facial hair world is actually ‘the toothbrush’ but you can understand why I would want to call it by its other name. Had I mustered the courage to pull off this, what in the back of my mind, was still a brilliant stunt, I have no doubt that I would have been ridiculed, shamed, laughed at and then ostracised for being a complete idiot by the entire family, the neighbours, and basically my entire city until I went and shaved it off. I’m glad that good sense prevailed over my sense of tasteless humour.

The idea, as foolhardy as it might have been, created a train of thoughts from the very perception that people have about this particular moustache. True, it is associated with a man who tried to wipe out a whole race of people because he decided that he was superior to them. But is that really the fault of the moustache? Was it the moustache that instilled a sense of supremacy in Hitler? Then why didn’t it have the same effect on the man who was just four days elder to him and presumably as famous as Hitler is notorious: Sir Charles Spencer ‘Charlie’ Chaplin.

Same as above.

A German and an Englishman, living in the same age, leaders in their own fields and sporting the same moustache, but the collective consciousness only remembers the one who has done more evil and not the one who brought happiness. It is not that I don’t realize the severity of events or don’t understand the horrors perpetrated by Hitler, I’m just pointing out that people may be more prone to violence maybe because it is an easier choice than doing good. Even neutrality is akin to siding with the aggressor and as Dante Alighieri put it, ‘The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crises.’

That may well be the reason that this particular moustache is forever associated by with the name of Adolf Hitler rather than with the most loved comedian of all time, Charlie Chaplin.

End of Two Years - Not with a Whimper, but a Bang

This reversal of T S Eliot’s famous lines from ‘The Hollow Men’ is the perfect way to describe how this blog completes two years today. And it isn’t the end just yet; I believe this is just the beginning of my long relationship with writing. It has only been in this second year that I’ve really flourished in the Blogosphere and ventured into new territory.

Triumphs like reaching out to 200 followers on Facebook, 35,000 page views on the blog, 151 posts, 2,500 (the highest) views ever in a month and 40 followers on the blog itself are things I’m proud to announce this year.

I almost feel like a CEO presenting the statistics of the last financial year to eager investors. I know that these numbers make no difference to those who read my work on a regular basis. These facts are also not because I want to impress first time visitors, I’m sure it makes no difference to them as well. However, it is these small things that make me realize how much the blog, my writing, my readers and I have grown in the past year.

This is one of those times when I’m truly impressed by my own perseverance. And believe me when I say that perseverance isn’t one of my strong suites, I can’t stress that enough. But blogging over these two years has probably been the best outlet my passion has had in recent times. Writing for other websites, meeting new people, reading fantastic authors and trying to match up to the level of fellow bloggers has been as exhilarating a challenge as I’ve ever faced.

Dabbling with various forms of writing has expanded my horizons and placed such knowledge into my hands as one can receive only by staring at oneself in the mirror that shows one’s soul. It has helped me unravel the mysteries of the workings of the world and given me exposure to how fast the world is changing around us at this very instant. It has provoked… enlightenment.

My readers, who have suffered the most at my hands are the ones I have most to thank for they are my inspiration, the ones who have placed their expectation in me to deliver the best of the best. What more can one ask for? It is only through meaningful conversations, the endless debates and the views of the world that have helped my work my gears to bring out my twisted version of what conspires around us.

After two years, I’m not tired, I’m not weary and I’m not ready to give up. I’m ready to drive by this milestone and begin the next lap of this incredible race. Hope to have you by my side and in my ear, edging me on…

The Tale of the Yellow Assassin

He was the patriarch of the family. He had all the makings of a leader. Well-built and intimidating, he sent everyone scurrying the moment he let his piercing gaze fall upon them. His yellow-tinted skin appalling and yet evoking respect from a distance. He was one best avoided, given his space for he didn’t take kindly to an invasion of his territory. As distant as he was to his own, he was even crueler to those who managed to fly into his trap. Cold and calculating, he was the ultimate assassin.

But his time was waning.

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

Now there was a new baddie in town, in His town. They called him the Flyboy. He struck hard and fast, before anyone could see him coming. He struck from the shadows and went straight into the light. He had made a name for himself and carved a niche right into His back yard before His lieutenants even realized that he was a threat. The Assassin was not happy… at all.

But he waited as he always did. Calculating the odds and sizing up his opponent before deciding to strike for that was his hallmark and the reason that he still had the city in his control.

The Flyboy was a new-age gangster who liked to do things fast. He didn’t completely understand the intricacies of it all but relied on brute force to claim what he wanted. He was reckless and violent and a pain for everyone who came into contact with him. The city was getting restless.

And the Assassin still waited.

As was bound to happen, the Flyboy spread his wings too wide and the Police Commissioner snapped. He ordered the immediate cleanup of all organized crime in the city. He gave a free reign to every officer and issued everyone the ‘license to kill’. He wanted the city free of these thugs who thought they could do whatever they pleased. Well not in his town!

The ensuing rampage saw the brutal mopping up of everyone on the other side of the law, irrespective of rank. The Flyboy was riddled by bullets inside his own apartment after a firefight that lasted half an hour.

The Assassin’s house was blown up with all his lieutenants inside. All his safe houses were busted and his gang was sent to sleep with the fishes. The Assassin himself was killed while trying to flee the city.

He had waited for too long this time.

Cast

The Assassin: A Spider

The Flyboy: A Bumblebee

The Police Commissioner: The Author

Setting

Author’s Bathroom

Public Display of Affection: The Debate

A lot of people in India have problems with other people hugging, kissing and fondling each other in public places. These people feel that such intimate things should only be done within four walls. Others believe that it is their personal choice to do whatever they wish, whenever they wish to, wherever they want. The argument between the two sides has been escalating for some time now owing to radicals in the former group who wish to preserve the morality of our streets.

There are several factors on which this debate has been raging and it came to the forefront of my thoughts yesterday when my friend brought up the topic. She asked me my opinion on the subject and I gave it. Fortunately, she had an opposing view of the same, which made for a lively discussion.

Here are some of the points we pondered upon.

Choice

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

AGAINST: One cannot do anything at any place. People do gross things out on beaches and in gardens. One must see to believe.

FOR: People can do whatever they want until and unless it encroaches upon other people’s rights. Two consenting adults engaged in PDA have decided to do so out of their free will. Who has the right to stop them?

To Look or Not to Look

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

AGAINST: It is right in one’s face and that it can be hard to avoid looking even if one tries.

FOR: One has the choice to look away if one is uncomfortable when people are engaged in PDA. It is entirely based upon viewer’s discretion. And it is actually sort of creepy if one stares at two people doing something to each other.

The ‘Kids’ Argument

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

AGAINST: It affects kids and their mindset about what’s happening in society.

FOR: Today’s generation comes fully equipped to deal with any question. They have a best friend called Google and a cousin called television. Together, they teach the children so much that it cannot affect them to see it in real life.

AGAINST: But how would it affect them to see all these things happening around them.

FOR: They will ask question, uncomfortable questions. Questions that parents in India still loathe answering; questions that are avoided because the subject itself is taboo. It is only when these questions arise that India will open up to the idea of sex education in the country instead of denying outright that there is nothing like sex and that it is just a myth.

Being Gross

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

AGAINST: It is absolutely gross what people do to each other in public places.

FOR: It is an expression of love.

AGAINST: One has to gross to know gross. Some of the things people do are outrageous.

FOR: If people do the same things in their bedroom, it is great. Secretly, everyone wants to do those things, but when others do it, it is gross. That is the hypocrisy of our nation. It is a matter of perspective.

Mindsets

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

AGAINST: Do we think that PDA is something that only people of loose moral character engage in because we are brought up to think that way or is PDA really a threat to our morality?

FOR: Yes, we have grown up in a society where sex and everything associated with it is considered taboo. When we look from the lens of this puritanical morality, anything and everything will appear wrong. But, it is only by questioning ourselves, our teachings and logic can we come to any conclusion about the effect that PDA has on our society.

Note: This post has been written like this since it really did happen in this way. And yes, I didn’t want to reveal the name of the person involved in the argument or which sides either of us took. I would like the reader to decide which side makes more sense and I’d like to know what he/she thinks about this issue. Do let me know.

Blackmail on the Ropes

As part of my media studies, I had to go out into the city with my crew and shoot a documentary on any subject whatsoever. Like any good student of the Indian education system, I like clichés, so I decided to shoot a day in the life those who walk on ropes for a living; a subject so worn out that nobody else even considered doing it. But one must admit, it makes for great cinematography any day and is a bit less boring than having a number of interviews that our subjects require.

So we found a family of performers who specialized in this field and made arrangements to shoot them (with cameras) and document their day for an amount of money that was downright obscene even after an hour of haggling and trying to make them understand that we were students and not professional movie-makers. They had got so used to people coming and filming them that they had actually fixed rates to have themselves star in documentaries. Talk about being professional! Thank God they had not yet made an association for this kind of thing or we would have been ripped off big time just for ten marks worth of credits.

Anyway, so we came about to a sum that everyone reluctantly agreed upon. They still thought it was less and we still thought it was too much. Nevertheless, we decided when to shoot and were glad that the negotiations were done.

Photo Credit: Google Images.

Now, the bread-earner in the family was a 9 year old girl whose father did nothing while his family went out to work. The family collected the earnings of the child for the four months that they were in the city and spent the other eight months on these savings in the state from where they migrated.

Skipping ahead to the shoot and its end, we came about to the point where they packed up after their performance and waited for us to pay up. And unlike the times where we usually looked at each other’s faces to see who had money, we all came up with the cash in a flash and went to pay them.

Surprise, surprise! They refused to take the money! Like flat out refused to touch it. On asking about their reluctance to take it, they said that the agreement was for four times the amount we were giving them. What?!! Yeah, that was our reaction.

We reminded them of our agreement but they still stuck to their argument that we had not agreed to the apparently paltry amount we were handing them. We were worried now. We tried to reason with them but then they began bemoaning their poverty and how we were kicking the poor in their stomachs.

Aah! We now realized that they had resorted to emotional blackmail but they didn't realize that we too were hardened negotiators! We tried reasoning despite the fact that we were now angry at their blatant lies but they refused to budge. In the end when they still refused to take the money we were offering we just walked away with the money feeling a little bad but still…

LIKE A BOSS!

I Am Possessed

It has been free couple of weeks for me with nothing to do except sitting around all day, sleep, eat, watch a movie or two, surf the net and sleep some more because college is out. They have given us something they call vacation and something I call a waste of my time. Instead of doing something worthwhile like maybe a project or analysis of something in the field, they have opted to give us some time off to relax. Well that wasn't exactly their intention, but that is what I’m doing and it’s driving me insane.

The vicious circle of Food-Television-Food-Internet-Food-Sleep is like a never ending black hole that is pulling me infinitely into itself. It is like the drunken stupor that doesn't see the bottom of the bottle, it is the quicksand that is pulling my very being into its abyss, it is that storm in which my senses have stopped working, it is that maelstrom from which I see no hope and it is that pit of hell from where there seems to be no salvation.

To have no set objective for the next day is indeed a dangerous place to be in and I know it because it does feel like everything is pointless and that I might as well watch another movie than try doing something worthwhile like writing this blog post.

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

I am like one possessed. IT feels like a parasite growing inside me, constricting my lungs and making a little place for itself; little by little. IT thinks I do not notice and till yesterday, IT might have been right, but now I know that IT is in me and I know ITS name; it is SLOTH. This being has permeated my insides in such a way that it feels like there is no escape. Even though I know that I will eventually do something, the here and now frightens me.

At this very moment, IT knows that I’m doing something and that is giving IT pain. IT cannot bear to see me working and I feel like just putting my laptop aside and slipping away into blessed oblivion until sundown. IT wants me to just lie down and close my eyes which are strained by the harsh light in my laptop and I feel the urge to heed IT but then I steel my resolve and continue in the hope that those who read of my plight do not let themselves fall wherein I've fallen and beware that every moment they do nothing is a moment where IT is waiting for you to fall into ITS outstretched tentacles. Waiting like the silent predator it is, for you to give yourself up willingly and consume your will to do anything at all.

Beware! For IT is always watching from the darkest corner of your soul, the part of you that wants to stop living the dog’s life and just relax. It is there, just waiting for you to take one wrong step and then IT will pounce, like a tiger upon a gazelle; and it will be only with immense determination that you will be able to escape its grasp.

Run little gazelle, run…

The Horror-Coaster named BRTS

For those of you who are not aware, BRTS is a public transport system that stands for Bus Rapid Transit System. It is an exclusive system of transport since it runs on its own track that is built in the middle of all the major roads of a city. It has its own platforms, dedicated service routes, rapid availability and is given priority at crossroads. Oh and yes, more than half the buses are air conditioned since it can get pretty hot here in Gujarat, yeah very hot.

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

Leaving the fact that having two public transport systems running on the roads here in Ahmedabad creates havoc with traffic since the police just seem concerned with fining people without helmets; let me get to the point. I had the opportunity to travel in the BRTS on a Sunday evening at peak hour. Here is a timeline of what happened that evening:

08:00 pm: We reach the nearest BRTS platform, buy our ticket and wait for the bus which should have come with 10 minutes.

08:30 pm: The first bus in half an hour arrives with at least 50 people crammed into it. We get into it nonetheless because we don’t want to wait another half hour for the next one.

08:45 pm: We both get separated inside the bus with people jostling to get in and out at the biggest crossroads we stop at. My friend panics since it’s her first time in public transport. She pleads with her eyes for me to stand next to her.

08:55 pm: I finally manage to get her next to me after seizing an opportunity while people were getting down at a stop. She is relieved, a LOT.

08:59 pm: We get off to change buses at a junction where two routes intersect. We breathe in open air after 29 minutes.

09:01 pm: Fortunately, the next bus arrives ‘Rapidly’ and we climb on despite of it brimming with people – again.

09:06 pm: People are swaying from side to side as our apparently drunk driver kept swinging the vehicle into turns that Schumacher would be proud of. I had to literally put both of my hands on either side of my friend and brace myself on the holding bars to prevent falling over her and others the next time he stopped the bus.

09:12: pm: The driver stopped the bus – not at a platform or because of traffic at crossroads, but because our bus had run out of diesel! Unbelievable! And the worst part is that commuters were not even informed of the same. He just pulled over and got off the bus to talk to another driver who had stopped ahead of us.

09:20 pm: it was only after he climbed into his seat and started the bus that he let us know that the bus had run out of fuel and that he’d had to borrow some from the other bus.

09:23 pm: The bus stopped so violently that almost all the people standing in the aisle went tumbling to the floor and some even from their seats. Fortunately I had braced myself so well that my friend and I managed to stay on our feet. There was an immediate uproar among those who had fallen. People accused the driver of being drunk and even threatened to complain about him at the next platform and have his license revoked.

09:24 pm: Passengers up front attempt to convince those in the back that a bicyclist had tried to cross the road in front of the bus and had the driver not stepped on the brakes, he would have been run over. The bicyclist was wearing sunglasses – in the night – I saw it!

09:25 pm: Enraged passengers get off the bus at the very next platform and try to get the driver to get off the bus so that they could possibly beat him to pulp but he managed to start the bus and we were on our way again. One good thing that came out of this mess was that everyone was alive and the bus was relatively empty for the rest of the way.

09:30 pm: we finally reached our platform and got off the bus with a sigh of relief that I hadn’t let out in a very long time.

It took us exactly one and a half hour to get to a place where it would have taken just 45 minutes to reach at the most, had we used our own vehicles. And it would have been without all the unsavoury incidents that took place along the way.

Talk about a memorable Sunday!


My friend Shruti Chaturvedi also wrote a hilarious piece on the BRTS recently, you can read it here: The BRTS.

Brandy, Whiskey & all that… FOR ALL!

Well, I wish that was possible, because in that case I’d hand out a glass to each one of my readers and then clink them to the resounding clamour of ‘cheers’ from all around. Today, my blog turns ONE.

It is quite an achievement for me that this blog managed to survive for a year. That been said, it is also an achievement that I’m writing my 100^th post on this day. It would hardly have been conceivable to me that I could actually manage this, had someone used this line to exhort me to write when I began. But I’m glad I did, because this day is a feeling I’ve had only twice as yet; the first was when I finished school and the second was when I completed my graduation.

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

All those who have followed my writing since the inception of this here blog, they will probably know that I started it just because I was getting bored at home and staring at a four month long vacation with absolutely nothing to do except for eating and watching what I like to call ‘my big ass’ TV. And so began this incredible journey of jotting down my feelings, my experiences and sharing those of others in the blogging world and outside of it. It was the first time that I came to realize the responsibility of being a writer and the joy of sharing my work with those who really want to read it.

It was somewhere around the six month period when I first experienced ‘writer’s block.’ I no longer knew what to write and I’d already exhausted all that I wanted to put out. But then it was this self-same blog that helped me realize what I wanted to write. Well, the blog and some people:

Namrota Mazumdar who found a novel way to keep me on the keyboard in times I didn’t feel I could write something worthwhile; she started poking me on Facebook and this inconspicuous yet highly effective nudging gave me the motivation to write again.

Then there was Sumedha Sharma who connected with me on a more professional and personal level and gave me newer insights into things one might just write off as normal.

Shruti Chaturvedi was I think my original inspiration to start the blog and it was she who helped me take my baby steps in the Blogosphere.

Farheen Raaj, one of my most intriguing and talented juniors at college is the one person younger to me whose opinion really matters.

My readers, especially those who commented and reviewed my work have also been my constant critics and support who helped me write better. A few of these people off the top of my head are Naini Khajanchi, Trisha Das, Debjani Ghosh, Dr. Shirish Kashikar and all those who have been reading but not let me know of their presence.

I’ve had inspiration from many great writers in the blogging world and to name all of them would take another post altogether, but chief among them are Sakshi Nanda, Tomichan Matheikal and Nabanita Dhar.

Thank you all very much and all those whom I’ve forgotten to mention.

Yours, in writing,

Brendan-Anton Raphael Dabhi.

If you didn’t Vote…

Gujarat was in anxious anticipation to vote for the Indian General Elections on the 30^th of April. And why not? Their Chief Minister is in the race to become the Prime Minister of India. The man who hopes to become the leader of the largest democracy in the world is counting on his state to propel him from Gandhinagar to New Delhi.

If you are one of those who are called, ‘enlightened and responsible’ citizens of India, you might have wanted to vote too or are going to. You want to do something for your country, do your part in bringing about a good government unlike those who don’t give a rat’s ass about the same. You actually think that one vote makes a difference; well that’s the difference between them and you.

It is very fortunate that today the number of educated and aware citizens who want to vote is considerably more than those who either do not realize the importance of it or are too lazy to cast their vote. It is the former group of people who are in the ascendency and it helps realize the basic premise of living in a democracy.

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

But there are people who cannot vote. There are reasons why they cannot go to their constituency and cast their vote on the day of elections. This may be due to a variety of reason. These reasons are in some cases valid, but there is no point noting them down since they will just be taken as some more excuses to avoid fulfilling one’s national duty.

But let’s assume that some people had a real reason not to vote, what can they then do to absolve themselves of this guilt? I know some people who did not vote and then could not put up their inked finger photo up on Facebook, but I also know that they wanted to – vote that is. But since they didn’t, talking about it is a moot point. What they did in lieu of voting then become a support for them to still believe that they did their duty in some measure at least.

Did they make other people aware of their duty and right?

Did they try to explain the importance of the same to the uninitiated?

Did they inspire even one other person to take the trouble to vote?

Did they do their part in ensuring that the voter list becomes longer?

If they have in any way partaken in these activities, then I believe that they can absolve themselves of blame, even if society doesn’t.

I didn’t vote, but I’ve finally manage to stop the dam of guilt that was threatening to spill into the other areas of my life. I believe that I’ve done my part for my country, have you?

Blowing in the Wind…

So yesterday, Ahmedabad experienced one of its worst rainstorms since the year 2010 and I know that not because I read it in the news, but because I was stuck slam bam in the middle of it and had to walk back to my college hostel in water up to my waist. Wish I’d gotten that motorboat then! Sigh!

But that was all alright because it happened in monsoon and because it was predicted. The swimming in waist deep water wasn’t, but I just chalk it up to the awesome drainage system management in this fair city of mine. Mohenjo-Daro seemed to be more developed to me right then. But these rains? Whoa! These were really something.

So here I was, minding my own business in the sweltering heat, in my sweltering outhouse, in my sweltering body and scalp when it got all cloudy and the weather turned into what my Dad just likes to call ‘sexy.’ So I like out the window and wonder how long the weather would hold before the sun scorched the clouds out of the stratosphere. I was even going to call my friends and take bets on this but before I knew it, it began drizzling and was that heaven!

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

Within moments, the drizzling had turned into a torrent and before I could step out onto the terrace to receive Zeus’ blessings, my windows and doors were flapping like gulls in high tide. I looked out my door to see a rain storm in full gale, blowing sheet upon sheet of rain into the setting sun, which was still hidden by the way.

All that was good since I could just close everything and sit in the comfortable dryness of my room, but no, that wasn’t to be allowed. The aluminum roof of my room started shivering and the wooden panels started creaking so loudly that I thought they would give away any moment. And three of them actually did so, peeling away from their joints and going down the five floors onto the street below my building.

This storm escalated so fast that I hardly had time to pack up my essentials and scram into the apartment before the whole enchilada actually blew off the roof over or on my head. Fortunately, my friend was kind enough to take me in for the night and so ended my night of sudden horror. I now realize somewhat how it must be to lose one’s everything in a hurricane or typhoon, even though I lost nothing.

Well played global warming, well played.

Insolent Interfering Imbeciles

Nobody needs to be told how skewed the Indian society is. Amid tall claims of modernization and criminal charges of westernization, it is clear to any person how perversely orthodox and unbending this civilization is.

There are a number of examples wherein this backward mindset can be seen, heard and experienced in everyday life. It might not always become glaringly obvious, but that is only because we have accepted these things and taken them in our stride as things that ‘just happen’ in India. Is it such a surprise then that we have songs that go like, “It happens only in India…?”

One such problem of the Indian people is their indefinite problem with the youth of the country. They believe that today’s youth is irresponsible, useless, unemployed and indecent. What they apparently do not realize is that if they make such allegations, they malign themselves and not the youth, since their accusations revert upon themselves as to what morals they've passed down to this generation.

This however, does not mean that I’m pleading guilty to those charges. In fact, I believe that the Indian society’s problem is their fear of accepting change. They are scared of losing what they have been brought up to believe is true. What they do not understand is that their society will ultimately stagnate like the Sanskrit language, without the change that the next generation stands for.

The incident that has driven me to write this post is a classic example of the skewed morality that Indians posses and are incredibly proud of.

My colleague and friend, a woman, offered to drop me home after a very long day of film shooting and we were both half dead. The area in which I stay is pretty well developed and is near to some very reputed institutes of the city, there’s a lot of traffic and so she dropped me right into my lane. I had a couple packets of chips and so we decided to sooth our ravenous bellies before leaving for home. Now as we were eating and discussing the next day’s schedule, this woman in a night dress comes to the gate of one of the houses and asks us our business in sitting “near” her house in the night. We explain ourselves, albeit grudgingly but she still pushes on, mentioning that times are bad and the “things” that happen to woman nowadays. Ultimately, we had to leave before she woke up half the lane.

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

 This is what one means when they say, “People in India can piss on the road but they can’t kiss on the road.” Two people, mutually respectful of each other, sitting on government property and eating a packet of chips that is the only thing gone into their mouth since the start of day, are chased away by a by a half-naked home owner because it scandalizes her morality. Brilliant, isn't it? Praiseworthy even! She has proved herself to be the keeper of women’s honour and the guardian of Indian morality in this time of great evil.

Sleep: A Luxury

It’s been a while that I've written on the blog. That’s the problem when work intercedes to interrupt your dialogue with your blog and your readers. The last couple of days have been hectic to say the least. It would be an understatement to say that I was swamped with assignments left, right and centre. However, now that I’m back (for the moment), let’s see what we can do about it.

The assignments I mentioned above, well, they haven’t been affording me any sleep lately. Earlier, I used to sleep late as a choice, as part of my lifestyle. But lately, it’s become more of a compulsion and I can’t pretend to like it. Although a necessity, sleep has come to become more of a luxury to me and the same thing got me thinking of how I’m not the only one who can’t afford this luxury. There are many more; many more who either don’t have the means or those who have too much of them to get the blessed commodity of relaxed bliss. For example:

Students

These people are those who get no sleep and no appreciation for that either. With a ridiculous grading system in place, these people work their backsides off day and night in the hope that they will manage to either get into another top institute or get a good pay out of their hard work. Others just hope to scrape through a curriculum which makes no sense to them whatsoever.

The Homeless

These are the people out on the streets. These are people who are considered the back-end of society and the trash of the cultured and civilized world. These people attempt to sleep under the light of the moon and myriad stars, exposed to the elements of nature. They hope that somebody, one day they might just find a place to rest their heads on and a covering to shield them from the snow and rain.

Orphans

Mere children who have lost their parents due to any of the hundred reasons available. These kids try to find sleep in alleys and if they are a wee bit lucky, in foster homes and orphanages. But it is hard to imagine them getting any sleep with what they've been through. Memories haunt them. If they have none, the void haunts them. They don’t sleep at night, they cry.

Athletes

Players, racers, riders and fliers; they must not get sleep either. In this cut throat world of competitive sports, it must be imperative to remain at the height of one’s performance at all costs. If not, then they immediately get replaced. There is no place for those who do not perform. I don’t imagine they get much sleep before a game, thinking about strategies and analyzing weaknesses, of others and their own.

Security Forces

People who serve their nations with their lives must hardly get any sleep at all. Danger, or the expectation of the same must constantly keep their minds on alert about the slightest sounds. By that calculation, they must never sleep, only rest.

Rich Folks

I often wonder how it would be to become so fantastically rich that I could even have a gold commode in my diamond encrusted bathroom. But that aside, I don’t imagine that these rich folks would also be getting much sleep. Tension must surely ruin their days and nights. Robbery, murder and bankruptcy must surely be working their way into their million dollar heads. Poor rich people.

And so, it is quite apparent that even though one might casually talk about sleep, it is a precious commodity that can only be had by a few lucky people. Others just have to make do with pretense of the same. Oh blessed sleep, when will you knock upon my door?